


business casual

by jaekyu



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Camboy Lee Taeyong, Friends With Benefits, Kinky, M/M, Resolved Sexual Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-13 02:35:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28895985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaekyu/pseuds/jaekyu
Summary: Taeyong is just trying to make his way in the world. Ten is just trying to be a good friend. Johnny is just trying to lend a hand. This should have always been less messy than how it turned out.or: Taeyong gets a co-star for his streams and also, maybe, just maybe, something more. Maybe.
Relationships: Lee Taeyong/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Comments: 48
Kudos: 179





	1. positions.

**Author's Note:**

> if you expect this fic to be anything less than a vehicle for me to write nasty shit with a thin as hell plot to back it up? i'm sorry you're in the wrong place. this is a camboy au. in addition, this fic will be, like, soft kinky. so expect some freaky shit, but nothing too crazy. i'll be adding some additional warnings in each chapter's notes!
> 
> i will not be making any promises for how frequently you will see updates from this. i am simply going with the flow.
> 
> thank you alex for reading my disgusting smut and making sure my typos aren't that bad even tho it embarrrases me greatly.
> 
> **warnings for chapter one** : spit kink, mention of daddy kink, mild breathplay, mild size kink, praise kink. taeyong also does not prep himself properly the second time he cams.

Taeyong’s routine is simple, but still effective.

His live shows are always between 7PM and 9PM, and he doesn’t eat beforehand. But he does shower. He likes to blow dry his hair afterwards, so it looks soft and fluffy, and he likes to smell good. He likes to put on eyeliner, rim his eyes with a smudged dark brown, and wear iridescent lip gloss. On some nights he’ll turn the lights in his room warm-hued and put on extra lotion.

That doesn’t seem like the vibe tonight, though. Instead, when Taeyong finally makes himself at home in front of his webcam, the lights are still cool-toned, and he’s wearing his boxers and a well-worn, comfortable grey hoodie.

He turns on the livestream. People trickle in; at first one by one, then faster.

“Hey everyone,” he says, briefly looking up from the screen to make eye contact with the webcam. To make imaginary eye contact with whoever might be watching him from the other side of it.

When he looks back, he reads a few messages in the chat. Someone has asked if Taeyong’s going to gape for them tonight. Another person has asked how Taeyong’s day was.

“My day was okay,” Taeyong answers the question he prefers. “I’m kind of tired, though, so it’s gonna be a lowkey stream tonight, alright, guys?”

A few people in the chat protest. Someone offers to come over to Taeyong’s apartment and tire him out properly. Most of the usernames Taeyong recognizes though, seem to be understanding. As understand as anonymous people on the internet who pay Taeyong to watch him fuck himself can be.

“Any requests?” He asks next, shuffling in his spot on his bed, until he’s sitting on his knees. “Should I jerk off? Finger myself? I have a few toys laying around too.”

The chat floods with responses. People start sending in tips. Taeyong reads over them, mindful of the way he bites on his lip while he does. A tip comes in, attached to a message: _You look cute tonight_.

Taeyong feels the top of his cheeks flush, just a little. “Someone said I look cute tonight,” he reads aloud. “Is that true? Do the rest of you think so?”

He’s being coy on purpose, all but batting his eyelashes into his webcam. Taeyong lifts his arms over his head to stretch and exposes the plane of smooth, unblemished skin just above the elastic of his underwear. The chat tells him just how cute he is, how they’d love to paint his stomach with their come, and someone tips one hundred and thirty thousand won and asks if Taeyong will take his top off.

“Since you asked so nicely,” he replies, gripping the hem of his sweater. “I guess I can take my sweater off.”

The cool air hits Taeyong’s skin immediately, hardening his nipples. He sighs, as he tosses his hoodie onto the floor, squirming as he settles, once again, against the mattress. He looks at himself on his own screen, the funhouse mirror reflection of himself; in this light everything about him is pink, and pretty, and fuckable.

Another tip comes in. The person who sent it says, _Suck on your fingers_.

Taeyong hums. “Like this?” He asks, kittenish. He rests his index and middle fingers against the poutiest part of his bottom lip, applying just a little bit of pressure. For a second, he fools even himself, with the look on his face, into thinking he’s not quite sure what comes next. But he does, and that makes it all the more satisfying when Taeyong opens his mouth, unabashedly wide, and lets everyone see the way his own fingers press down his tongue.

The same thing that might happen if someone put their cock in his mouth.

He closes his mouth around his own fingers then, sucking on them slowly and purposefully. He leans back on the palm of his other hand, offering up a little arch towards the camera. Finger sucking isn’t quite as effective digitally as it is in real life, but it serves its purpose. It warms people up to what’s coming next.

Taeyong slides his fingers out of his mouth, making sure the pop they make as they do is audible enough. He sighs, then, and trails his damp fingers down across his neck, between his collarbones, until he can drag them back and forth over one of his nipples. He speeds up his breathing as he does, making sure his audience can hear him, making sure they can see the rise and fall of his chest.

He groans, just a little, before speaking. “Been thinking about doing this to myself all day,” he tells everyone watching. “Couldn’t wait to do this in front of you.”

His audience likes that, Taeyong’s learned. When they can pretend they’re the only ones watching. When they can pretend they just keep Taeyong in his bed, like a little pet, for them to call upon to fuck himself for them whenever they want.

The chat moves faster than Taeyong can keep up with, a difficult enough pursuit even when his dick wasn’t starting to harden in his boxers like it is right now.

Taeyong gives in to oblivion slowly, piece by piece.

His hand drops to the front of his boxers, and he feels himself up slowly.

More donations come in. Taeyong rolls his hips into the press of his own hand. He lets a sigh build up in his chest, flow out of him slow and steady until it turns into a cut off moan, high and whiny.

“I’m gonna finger myself,” Taeyong tells his live stream. “Stretch myself good. Wish I could sit on your cock, too.”

Even more donations. Taeyong attempts to slide out of his boxers as sensually as he can without actually getting up from the bed. He is somewhat successful at it. Someone donates, so that Taeyong doesn’t miss it when he says, _I bet you look so good dripping with come_.

That’s the main function of the donation; they are filtered to Taeyong on a different screen, in bright colours, which makes it easier for them to catch Taeyong’s eye. Less likely to get lost in the mess of the chat.

“I have an ejeculating dildo on my wishlist if you’re feeling generous, Daddy,” Taeyong replies, a teasing lilt to his voice on the last word. He squirts lube onto the same fingers he had in his mouth earlier, warming it briefly before he’s reaching behind himself.

He’ll show them later. But it’s good if you build up to it.

The way Taeyong is sitting — a slight angle away from the webcam — you can still see his face, but you can also see the curve of his body. The dip in his arched back, the way that flows into the roundness of his ass. And you can see his arm, cut off at the wrist, as Taeyong gently fits his own fingers inside of himself.

His other hand holds his cock. But it doesn’t move, doesn’t offer any friction. Taeyong merely grips the base, squeezing every so often, punishing himself into holding off for as long as he can.

_How many fingers can you fit in your hole_ , someone asks, and Taeyong breathlessly answers, “my whole fist, if I wanted. But that takes a while. And I’m sure your cock would feel much better.”

_You look like you need to be fucked good._

“Yeah, I do,” Taeyong’s fingers brush against his own prostate. He doesn’t search for it again, content to let himself hang on the edge just a little longer, chasing euphoria ar a slow jog. “If you were here with me I’d let you hold me down and fuck me as hard as you wanted. I need it,” and when Taeyong says it he drags out the syllables for _need_ , stretching the word like taffy, and pushes his fingers inside of himself, aggressive, at just the right angle again. The sentence chokes off into a low moan.

“Do you want me to show you what I’m doing to myself? How I’m stretching myself on my own fingers? How good I could be for you? How good I could take your cock?” He asks, easing up on his own ministrations against himself. “Show me how much you wanna see.”

Someone tips four-hundred thousand won. They say, _show me_ , and, for that amount of money, who is Taeyong to deny them?

He shuffles a little, and it takes him a second to find the proper angle; he wants people to see him fingering himself, properly, and for them to still be able to see his cock, because he’s going to come like this. Once he’s found a spot that he thinks works, Taeyong looks back at himself on his own computer screen, and is floored by how wrecked and fucked out he looks.

He bites his lip, hard. A full body shudder tears its way through him.

“Am I allowed to come?” He asks his live stream, one hand moving slowly up and down his cock and the other one with two fingers buried inside of him. He turns up the desperation, makes sure his voice really quivers when he asks. They like it when he pretends they’re the ones in control, when he makes himself beg the way they all want to make him beg for them. “Please. Please say I’m allowed to come. I want to come for you so bad. I _need_ to come for you.”

The chat moves quickly. Taeyong doesn’t read any of it. His hips stutter between the rock and hard place of both his hands, forwards into the tight grip he has around his cock, backwards into the press of his own fingers inside of him.

Someone tips an amount of money Taeyong doesn’t even process. All he sees is the message, _you can come baby_ , before he’s turning away from the screen, and losing himself in his own pleasure.

It doesn’t take long; Taeyong has always known exactly the correct way to please himself, and he has very much perfected the art of making himself come in the time he’s been camming. He’s loud, on purpose, and squirmy, just for show. The chat keeps moving, forgotten in Taeyong’s peripheral.

When Taeyong comes it’s with a shout, and he attempts to catch as much spunk as he can into the palm of his hand. He turns back to the camera, just a little, so they can see it the best when he takes his own come and rubs it across his chest. It glints in the light, makes Taeyong look wet and nasty and debauched. Someone tips him a hundred and ten thousand won.

_Lick the rest off your hand_ , they say, and Taeyong does as he’s told, sucking each digit on his hand into his mouth meticulously.

He swipes his tongue over his palm, once, twice, like a cat licking at a bowl of milk, and then turns back to his webcam.

“That’s it for tonight, guys.” he says. He drags the blanket thrown over the corner of his mattress closer, draping it over his lap to hide his wilting cock. “And I’m off for the weekend, so I’ll be back on Tuesday.”

Taeyong doesn’t wait to read any of the rest of the chat, exhausted in a bone-deep way. He just ends the livestream and closes his laptop.

Sometimes, after he finishes a live stream, Taeyong kind of feels the same way you feel after you blow a dude in the bathroom, and you expect him to reciprocate, but instead he just washes his hands and leaves, and it’s just you with your pants unbuttoned and your mouth tasting like jizz. Like, it’s worse than blue balls. And it can’t be blue balls, not really, because Taeyong came. So, that’s the way to describe it.

Or, that’s the way Taeyong likes to describe it.

(It’s better than saying what he really feels: lonely).

*

The morning after a cam show Taeyong is always slow to get ready.

He’s usually always up way too late after he’s finished; despite the tiredness that consumes him after very effectively wringing an orgasm out of himself, he’s always got more shit to do. Like feed himself, and maybe do some dishes. He usually has some school work to waste some time half-paying attention to, and he almost always, _always_ needs to spend a good forty-five minutes lamenting over his finances, and thinking of new and creative ways to stretch his already thin budget.

All this to say: when he meets Ten for lunch the next day at 2PM, he’s barely been awake for an hour and a half.

“Good show last night?” Ten asks, smirking. He looks much more put-together than Taeyong: a button-up hanging loosely off his frame, the top few buttons unbuttoned. He’s wearing black denim with rips high up on the thighs, and these brown Chelsea boots. Taeyong, sitting across the table from Ten, is wearing a long-sleeved henley he picked up off his floor and smelt before putting on.

Taeyong shrugs. “It was fine,” he replies. “Still not getting the numbers I want but. Y’know.”

Taeyong often feels very blessed to have Ten in his life. Taeyong had not been expecting to befriend someone like him; they had met because they ran in the same circle of adult entertainers online, so imagine Taeyong’s surprise when he found out Ten lived in, like, the same neighbourhood as him. It had been surreal, and a little freaky at first. Taeyong took careful precautions to keep his online life and his real life as separate from each other as he could but — but knowing Ten was good. Being able to talk to him about anything and everything, and have Ten offer Taeyong legitimate advice in return? That was indispensable to Taeyong.

And, yeah, the money was really good whenever they would collaborate on screen. But they tried to save that for special occasions.

“Enough about me,” Taeyong redirects the conversation. “You streamed last night, right? How was that?”

Ten hums, pausing to let the server come by and refill their water glasses and ask them if everything is going well. Ten smiles at her and nods. They are picking at identical plates of japchae. Taeyong can feel a headache brewing at the edges of his temples, and wishes he had had a cup of coffee before he left the house.

“Jaehyun tied my wrists to my headboard and fucked me on and off for two hours,” Ten says, barely a moment after the server is out of earshot. “I came so hard I think I blacked out. So, yeah, good stream. Tips were good too.”

“Jaehyun doesn’t mind doing that?”

Ten shrugs. “Nah. We don’t show his face on camera. Also if my boyfriend was not willing to fuck me so I could make some extra money then he wouldn’t be my boyfriend, quite frankly.”

Taeyong nods along with what Ten’s saying, chewing on his food. “How much extra money?”

“Oh my god, _Taeyong_ ,” Ten braces his hands against the table. He looks entirely too excited to talk about it. “So much extra money. Who knew that I just had to get a hunky boyfriend who was willing to drill my ass on camera to be making an extra million won a night.”

“That much?” Taeyong asks, eyes wide.

“Yeah. On a slow night,” Ten continues explaining. “On a good night, I make more than that. It’s crazy. I think it helps with the fantasy, if they see someone else there with you. Easier for them to pretend it’s them. Like point of view porn.”

Taeyong considers that for a moment. He thinks about all the things his audience likes him to say. The way they like it best when he pretends they are the only ones he’d do this for, that it’s them that get to come home and fuck him.

Would they go for that? To see someone faceless breaking Taeyong apart, someone they could easily replace with whatever version of themselves they’d like?

Taeyong shakes his head. It doesn’t really matter, does it? He doesn’t have a boyfriend to do that with.

“God,” Taeyong sighs. “If I didn’t already feel like you and Jaehyun’s third wheel, now you’re telling me if I could manage to get a boyfriend I could be less worried about money? Any other ways you’d like to torment me for being single, Ten?”

Ten rolls his eyes. “Whatever. You’re single because you don’t even try, Taeyong. You haven’t even been on date since you and You Know Who broke up.”

“We broke up two years ago,” Taeyong replies. For the record, he’s rounding up. It’s been a little less than that. “You can say his name. Baekhyun.”

“I don’t want to,” Ten huffs. “But seriously, who says you have to be dating this guy? You’d probably have to give him a cut but like — if you’re making that much extra, isn’t it kind of worth it?”

“Tell me, Ten. Do you know many dudes who’d be into that kind of arrangement?”

Ten, god bless him, seems to give it genuine thought, even though Taeyong meant it as a joke. Taeyong appreciates it, but he doesn’t get his hopes up. He knows the perception people have of him, as a sex worker, and he knows that fucking him on camera — even if they didn’t show their face — would cross a lot of people’s limits. Not everyone is like him, or Ten, or even Jaehyun.

But then Ten is getting this look in his eyes, a mischievous glint, and a smile on his face like he’s just had the best idea of his life.

All this considered, it makes Taeyong a little nervous.

“Ten,” Taeyong calls his name cautiously. Ten ignores him, pulling his phone out of his pocket and becoming very focused on the screen. “Ten, what are you doing? I didn’t say _I’d_ be willing to go through with that kind of arrangement either!”

“Shush. No one is making you do anything. I’m just keeping your options open.”

Ten doesn’t answer any of Taeyong’s questions after that, no matter how much Taeyong pesters him. They don’t even discuss it again, not even after Ten forces Taeyong to let him pay for his meal and they both say their goodbyes.

There’s a gnawing in Taeyong’s gut as he walks home. He has a very distinct feeling he might be forced into a corner very, very soon, and he’s quite sure how he’ll get out of it.

*

It’s Sunday when the text comes in.

Taeyong is sitting on the floor in front of his fridge, determined to clean it out like he’s been planning to do for weeks. There are entirely too many things in there that have been left uneaten for entirely too long. Half the reason he’s been putting it off for so long though is because he’s afraid of what kind of creature he might find.

He’s trying to find the expiration date on a jar of sauce Taeyong thinks he might have had for five years, when his phone vibrates.

**Unknown** : is this Lee Taeyong?

Taeyong frowns. He hasn’t given his number out to anyone in any recent memory.

**Taeyong:** Yes  
**Taeyong:** Who is this

Taeyong has to keep himself from screaming when the person answers.

**Unknown:** My name is Johnny  
**Unknown:** I got your number from Ten  
**Unknown:** He said you needed help with work?

The phone rings five times before Ten picks up.

“What the fuck?” Taeyong says in lieu of hello.

“Oh, did Johnny text you?” Ten answers, innocent as ever.

“Ten,” Taeyong sighs, rubbing his temples. He’s surrounded by half the shit in his fridge, spread out on the floor around him, and apparently he and his best friend need to have a conversation about boundaries. “What did you tell this guy? Why did you give him my number?”

“You’ve met him a few times,” Ten says, like that somehow makes up for it. “He’s been at a few parties that you’ve been to. He’s Jaehyun’s friend from school. He’s really cool, and open-minded, and _single_.”

“Did you tell him about me?”

“He knows about what I do,” Ten replies. “I didn’t tell him _exactly_ but I did tell him you were one of my, ahem, colleagues. And that you needed some help with your shows.”

“Ten,” Taeyong hisses through gritted teeth, trying not to sound too annoyed. “That is, like, so not cool with me. I don’t even know this guy. And you told him I’m looking for someone to fuck me on camera. And, I assume, the implication was that he could _fill that role_?”

Ten scoffs. “Look, Taeyong, no one is making you do anything. Like I said at lunch yesterday, I’m just opening up some options for you. You could at least meet with Johnny. See if you guys click. And even if you guys do, you do not have to fuck him on camera. Seriously.”

Taeyong closes his eyes and breathes for a few moments. Ten is right. As much as his help was not something Taeyong asked for, well — he might as well explore the option now that it’s more viable, right?

“Shit,” Taeyong mumbles to himself, before speaking to Ten again. “Okay, Ten. I’ll meet with him. But let’s not make this a habit, okay?” Taeyong rubs his temples.

“Of course, baby, whatever you say! Have fun!” And just like that, Ten has hung up on him.

Taeyong takes a moment to weigh the pros and cons of this whole thing. First off, he really does think his audience will respond well to somebody else being evolved. The more he thinks about it, the more convinced of this he gets. But then — Taeyong is unsure about building an entire seemingly professional relationship, that intrinsically involves sex, and also money. Sure, he and Ten have fooled around on camera before, but it’s different. They are both camboys, with their own separate audiences, but first and foremost they are friends. Taeyong would be meeting with Johnny under very specific pretenses, and Taeyong does not know how he would feel about that.

But Ten is right. No one is making Taeyong do anything. He can meet with Johnny and decide he’s a nice guy and still not go through with anything. No matter how nice the extra spending money would be.

So Taeyong summons the courage, and replies to the last text Johnny sent him.

**Taeyong:** Sorry about the late reply, I was showering  
**Taeyong:** Any chance you’d be okay with meeting for drinks tomorrow?

*

Taeyong is more nervous about this than he’d like to be.

He feels kind of like how he does before a date — butterflies battling it out in his tummy, throat a little dry — but Taeyong has to banish that thought quickly, because it will not benefit him in this situation at all. He is meeting with Johnny as a potential business partner.

A potential business partner Taeyong hopes will want to rail him into next week, but whatever. Semantics. The point is: Taeyong is pointedly avoiding any romantic feelings.

Taeyong meets Johnny at his lowkey kind of hipster bar about a ten minute cab ride from Taeyong’s apartment. Johnny picked the spot; Taeyong doesn’t go out much, so he had trusted Johnny to have a little bit more knowledge on the nightlife around here.

It’s only 7PM when Taeyong shows up, so the scene is far from bustling. It’s mostly business men who have just finished work, who come to the bar to unwind and toss their suit jackets over the backs of their chairs and loosen their ties.

To Taeyong’s surprise, when he enters the establishment, someone sitting at the bar waves him over. It takes him a second to place the face but — yeah, it’s Johnny. Taeyong briefly considers the stuff he’s been looking at to be able to recognize Taeyong like that, but then decides he’s better off if he doesn’t really think about it. All it will do is make him more nervous.

Johnny is handsome. Taeyong can’t deny it. When he gets closer, can see Johnny better, Taeyong starts to be able to place his face, remembering where he’s seen him before. Leaning against the wall at a party in Ten’s apartment, pouring water from the sink into a glass as Taeyong walked by the kitchen. Waiting in Ten’s hallway to use the bathroom.

He’s not a complete stranger. Taeyong can’t decide if that’s better or worse.

“Hey,” Taeyong says once he’s within earshot. “Thanks for meeting with me.”

“Yeah, of course,” Johnny replies with little nods of his head. He’s dressed simply: a pea-coloured turtleneck that hugs his chest nicely, black slacks. His hair is loosely styled, nothing expertly coiffed but nothing messy. He’s already holding a glass in one hand, filled with honey-brown liquid. “I hope you like this place?”

“It seems nice,” Taeyong hums, shrugging off his jacket. He does not miss the way Johnny’s eyes follow the newly exposed curves of his upper half, the way his chest flows into the cinch of his waist. “I don’t get out much.”

Johnny laughs, more out of politeness than genuine amusement, Taeyong would guess. Things don’t feel awkward between them, per se, Taeyong just suspects the problem is trying to establish what this all is in the first place.

Taeyong, at least, has answered one question: he would definitely fuck Johnny, and he’s pretty sure Johnny would fuck in return.

Taeyong orders himself a drink, running a hand through his hair. When it arrives, he takes a sip, and it settles warm and smooth down his throat and into his stomach.

“So,” Taeyong begins, content to get down to it at this point. “Ten told you about what I do?”

Johnny nods. “Yeah. I just wanted to tell you that I’ve always known what Ten does for a living, y’know? And it’s never made me look at him any differently, so —”

“Johnny,” Taeyong holds up a hand to quiet him. “With all due respect, it doesn’t matter. It’s just a job. I don’t need you to outline all the ways you still respect me as a person, okay?”

“Right.” Johnny scratches at the back of his neck. “Well. Anyway. Ten sent me some of your stuff —”

“He _what_?”

“I didn’t watch any videos!” Johnny immediately corrects. “I just looked at some pictures, that’s all! Just to get an idea. I’m sorry. Should I not have?”

Taeyong grimaces, briefly, but then he shakes his head. “No. It’s fine. I’m on the internet. It’s all there for anyone to look at it. I just have to have a conversation with Ten about what he can tell people about me and what I’d rather tell them myself.”

“Of course,” Johnny says, and then waits for Taeyong to take a long pull of his drink before he speaks again. “For the record, Taeyong, you don’t have anything to be embarrassed about.”

Taeyong feels a point of heat slowly unfurl itself at the base of his spine, spreading slow and deliberate. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Johnny clicks his tongue. There is something very distinctive in his eyes, but Taeyong can’t quite place what it could mean. “That you are very attractive. And if you needed any help with your work — well, it wouldn’t exactly be a chore for me to do that for you.”

The point of heat turns into a veritable fire, setting Taeyong ablaze under the confines of his skin. He thinks he might gasp softly, but he’s not sure, and if he did, he hopes Johnny didn’t hear it.

“Oh, I, okay,” Taeyong scrambles to find words in his slowly melting brain. “Okay? Okay. Me too. I mean — it would be good for me, too. I mean. Wait, I’m not saying — you know what I mean, right?”

Johnny nods. “Yeah. I’d make it good for you. Don’t worry.”

That’s not what Taeyong had meant. But that’s okay.

Taeyong had thought about putting the cab ride here on his taxes for this year. But, uh, after this? Maybe not.

If we’re categorizing things as business and pleasure: this feels distinctly like the latter, and nothing like the former.

*

On Tuesday, Taeyong is feeling better about doing a liveshow than he was the week before. He’s had a nice weekend of rest and relaxation (see: cleaning out his fridge, writing two-thirds of an essay due at the end of the month and then erasing it, binging two seasons of an anime Sicheng told him to watch, etc) and he’s feeling like spoiling himself.

Plus, he and Johnny have agreed that Johnny will be around for Taeyong’s next cam show. The thought of, like, actually getting laid is making Taeyong a little more excited than it should, and he thinks his audience may deserve something a little special. To get them ready for Thursday.

So when he turns on his stream tonight, he’s only wearing a pair of white briefs and a too-big black down, all the buttons undone. It exposes all of Taeyong’s chest, freshly moisturized, and falls a little bit off of his shoulder. Around Taeyong’s neck is a collar, black with silver hardware.

Taeyong’s legs are folded outwards in front of him so that his knees touch, and he leans forward with his hands on his own thighs. “Hi everybody,” he says, voice dripping honey, as viewers start to trickle in. “Do I look nice tonight?”

The chat erupts with compliments. Taeyong smiles, then bites his lip. “Since our last stream was pretty lowkey, I thought we could do something a little more special this time.”

Tips roll in. No significant numbers yet, but still. Money is money.

“Highest tip in the next five minutes gets to decide how I fuck myself with my dildo tonight.”

It sets off a stream of donations. Taeyong doesn’t usually like to ask outright — some people’s audiences respond to it, but not Taeyong’s. They aren’t nearly as competitive. It’s usually a tactic reserved for bigger streamers, but tonight Taeyong’s feeling like it might work.

And it does. Someone sends in five hundred thousand won, and the message attached to it is simple: _Did I win?_

Taeyong hums. “You sure did, _jyoungho95_.” He reads the username carefully at first, before repeating it again once he’s deciphered it. “I’m gonna go grab my stuff, I’ll be right back, and you think about how exactly you want me, baby.”

The dildo Taeyong has chosen is not huge, but it is significant in size. It’s a good weight in his hands, a soft pink colour with a flared base. It’ll feel good. Not as good as Johnny will on Thursday, Taeyong thinks. But good practice.

Taeyong returns to the space in front of his camera, settling again. “This one is my favourite colour,” he says, smiling as he presents the dildo to his audience. The chat fills with people praising his choice, and others promising their cocks would feel so much better than something like that.

**jyoungho95** : cute  
**jyoungho95** : just like you

Taeyong can’t help the flush that colours the upper half of his chest. What kind of camboy would he be if he didn’t have a praise kink?

“What should I do with this?” Taeyong asks coyly, tilting his head and opening his mouth a little, so everyone can see the tip of his pink tongue. He squirms a little, anticipating the answer.

**jyoungho95** : suck on it  
**jyoungho95** : finger yourself while you do it

“You want me suck on it?” Taeyong reads from the chat, voice still coquettish. “Is it because you wonder what I’d look like if I was sucking you?”

Everyone in the chat answers in the affirmative. A few people offer to bust on Taeyong’s face, feed Taeyong their come the way they know Taeyong would like.

**jyoungho95** : if you sucked me off I’d make you choke on it

Taeyong shivers. He can feel his mouth start to water. “Oh, that’s nice,” he moans, breathless. He presses the tip of the dildo against his bottom lip, sticking his tongue out to run it across the head. A few people tip, asking for specific things, but Taeyong has already chosen someone to direct the rest of this stream.

**jyoungho95** : finger yourself  
**jyoungho95** : don’t use lube. just spit

Taeyong does not answer with words, simply follows directions. He sucks, briefly, on three fingers, getting them much more sloppy wet than he really needs them to be, before he’s shoving his briefs down around his thighs and circling the rim of his own asshole.

He chokes on a groan and slips the dildo past his lips to muffle it. Taeyong can hear his computer chime with more tips, but he’s not paying attention, too lost in the sensation of a full mouth, and the pleasant burn of fingering himself dry.

He moans around the dildo, pushing it further. He wants to choke on it. Because that’s what they want to see; if he was sucking them off they’d want to see him choke on it.

So with two fingers in his own ass, Taeyong does, pushing the dildo far enough to make him gag on it. He pulls the dildo out and finds it dripping spit, as well as the spit collecting in the corner of his own mouth. The dildo momentarily forgotten, Taeyong collapses onto his bed.

From this angle, his whole upper body against his mattress and his ass in the air, his audience have a very nice view of the way Taeyong is working his fingers inside of himself. He glances at the chat — it’s a mix of praise, more dirty talk, more wishes to be the person doing this to Taeyong.

**jyoungho95** : you’re doing so good baby

Taeyong whines when he reads it, rubbing his face against his sheets. His cock is hard, leaking a mess between his legs. With the hand he has free, he reaches up and tugs on the collar around his neck. Taeyong hears himself gasp.

**jyoungho95** : whenever you’re ready baby you can fuck yourself

Taeyong doesn’t feel nearly ready enough, but he’s so eager to please. He likes being good. He likes knowing what people want without them having to ask. “I don’t think I’m stretched enough,” Taeyong admits aloud. “But I’m tired of waiting.”

_You’re so eager_

_Let us see you squirm_

**jyoungho95** : you should ride it

God, yeah. That sounds good. Taeyong picks himself off his mattress with shaky arms, carefully maneuvering himself. He has to scoot back a little bit, but eventually you can see all of him in the frame. They’ll be able to see his face when he’s taking it, his cock as it bounces with him, the base of the dildo as it disappears and reappears from inside Taeyong.

Taeyong takes it slow, inch by inch. He throws his head back, groaning, and briefly forgets that he’s trying to take it slow; he almost accidentally sinks all the way down onto the dildo with no preamble. Luckily though, he catches himself at the last second, and Taeyong’s breath stutters out of him, eyes going wide.

“I’m so —” Taeyong doesn’t know how to finish. He whines instead, sinking further down onto the dildo. “ _God_ , I wanna —”

And before he can do anything to stop it, a thought arrives in Taeyong’s head, and all he can think about is what it might be like to ride Johnny’s cock. How big is he? How would he stretch Taeyong? What about his fingers? Would he be slow and steady with Taeyong, or would he be rough and demanding, and push Taeyong to his limits?

And Taeyong feels guilty about it for just a second but then — well, why should he? There is literally a countdown of days until Johnny is going to fuck Taeyong, and they are going to stream it for all of Taeyong’s audience, and Taeyong is going to make money off of it, so?

This could almost be considered a good thing, couldn’t it?  
Yeah. Sure. Let’s go with that.

So Taeyong doesn’t stop thinking about Johnny. Not even when the dildo is all the way inside of him, pressing up against that _just right_ spot, and Taeyong is panting as he tries to catch his breath. He thinks about Johnny, still, when he starts to rock his hips, slowly, building up momentum until he is bouncing up and down on the shaft. What will Johnny say to him when he fucks him? Is he shy or is he nasty? How far could Taeyong push him? Would he put his hand around Taeyong’s throat if he asked? Would he spit in Taeyong’s mouth?

Taeyong doesn’t even stop thinking about Johnny when he comes, a strangled shout tearing its way out of Taeyong’s throat as he shoots. He thinks about Johnny as he comes down from the high of his orgasm, and thinks about Johnny when he wipes himself clean with his own shirt.

And it’s a good thing, too, because it’s the only reason Taeyong remembers.

“Oh!” He says, just as he’s about to end the stream. “I almost forgot. We’re going to have a special guest next stream, guys. I’m really excited for it too.”

Taeyong lets his eyes flit over the chat for a moment. Some people are guessing Ten, others are asking if Taeyong has a boyfriend now.

“No spoiling the fun, everyone. I’ll see you on Thursday.”


	2. nasty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> seriously, if you're expecting anything nuanced and emotional in these coming chapters, you're really barking up the wrong tree. on the other hand, if you're a nasty bitch like me, this might be exactly what you're looking for. more nastiness to come. 
> 
> as always, thank you to alex for reading through all my filth. the mvp.
> 
> **additional warnings for this chapter** : pseudo-phone sex (more just having a conversation on the phone about sexual topics, honestly), bondage, edging, dirty talk.

Taeyong spends his week just waiting for it to be Thursday

Well, more accurately: he takes a moment to send Ten a thank you text for introducing him to Johnny, which Ten is unbelievably smug about. He gets even more smug after he prods at Taeyong a little, and finds out that Johnny _is_ in fact Taeyong’s intended special guest for his Thursday show. Taeyong will relent and admit that maybe Ten is right to be smug. Especially if things go well on Thursday.

Another thing Taeyong does while he waits for the week to go by, is talk to Johnny.

It kind of surprises him how well they get along. They texted, a little bit, after Taeyong had gotten home from the bar that first night. It was simple things they talked about at first — nothing complicated, no real threads of conversation worth pulling on and following. And then, at some point, their discussions shifted topics, accelerated, and never really stopped.

They don’t even really talk about what’s happening on Thursday. Well, they’ve discussed it a little bit, obviously. There are always details to iron out with this sort of thing. They talk about what time Johnny should show up (6PM, Taeyong tells him, because Taeyong would like to prep him — no pun intended — on expectations before they get started at Taeyong’s typical streaming time of 7PM) and they talk about how much of himself Johnny is willing to put on camera (no face, he ends up deciding, but anything else from the neck down is fair game) and Johnny asks the few more questions he has.

This whole thing — the ease with which they speak to each other, their obvious attraction towards one another, the way Taeyong feels oddly calm around Johnny and trusting of him, despite how little time they’ve known each other — it makes Taeyong pretty confident about his upcoming stream.

All things considered: none of this should be too complicated.

*

Taeyong is in bed by 10PM on Wednesday — because he has class the next morning, and also a full night of work right after — so he’s basically dead to the world when something starts vibrating incessantly at midnight.

It’s his phone, he realizes, rolling over in bed and fumbling for it where he keeps it tucked under his pillow. He’s fully expecting it to be Ten blowing him up, for whatever mundane reason Ten deems incredibly important. Or, Taeyong hopes, someone just as equally easy for him to ignore and then go back to sleep.

When all the texts lighting up his phone screen are from Johnny though, suffice it to say Taeyong is very surprised.

**Johnny** : Taeyngggg  
 **Johnny** : It ws cheap night 2night I thinnkk I drnak too much  
 **Johnny** : can I call u  
 **Johnny** : oh your probbly aslep arent you  
 **Johnny** : Sory  
 **Johnny** : Sleep wel Taeyong

Taeyong sighs, shaking his head. Despite the effect this is going to have on his sleep schedule, there’s an odd fondness warming his chest. He and Johnny have been texting all week, so it’s not odd for Taeyong to be getting a text from him but — there is something to _this_ , that Johnny thought to text Taeyong, specifically, when he’s a little drunk. The kind of relationship you have with the people in your life those texts are usually reserved for.

**Taeyong** : I’m awake now  
 **Taeyong** : You can call me if you want

The three bubbles that indicate Johnny is typing pop up, then disappear, then pop up again before disappearing just as fast as they did the first time. Taeyong holds his breath, counts to ten, and before he finishes Johnny’s call is coming through.

“Hey, Johnny,” Taeyong answers, face half-pressed into his pillow. The fondness in Taeyong’s chest comes through his voice without him meaning to. “You’re having a good time tonight?”

“Taeyong,” Johnny half coos Taeyong name, half shouts it. Taeyong wonders where he is; he imagines him on the street outside the bar, maybe wearing a black button up with the top three buttons undone, and a pair of jeans that hugs the shape of his hips and thighs. Taeyong looks out his window, and the moon is just a sliver in the sky tonight, a slash of bright light against inky black. “I am having a _great_ time. My friends took me out for drinks.”

Taeyong chuckles. He can hear the slur in Johnny’s words, especially prominent at the end of his sentence. “Where are you?”

“I’m at home,” Johnny replies. The image in Taeyong’s mind of Johnny shifts to accommodate this new information; he imagines Johnny in a dimly lit entrance way, toeing off his shoes. He doesn’t know what Johnny’s apartment might look like, so Taeyong doesn’t picture it beyond the nondescript box of it that he keeps Johnny inside, in his imagination.

“Make sure you drink water before you go to bed,” Taeyong tells him. “Hangovers after you turn twenty-four are killer.”

Johnny huffs. “Tell me about it.”

Neither of them say anything for a few moments after that. It’s not awkward, it’s a comfortable silence. Taeyong can hear Johnny moving around and doing things on his side of the phone call, and he assumes once Johnny is settled they’ll talk for a little bit longer, and then they’ll both go to bed. Taeyong pulls his covers up to his chin and sighs.

Finally, just as Taeyong’s eyelids are starting to feel heavy, Johnny asks: “Can I tell you a secret?”

Taeyong nods, then remembers Johnny can’t actually see him, and responds verbally. “Yeah,” Taeyong says. “Go ahead.”

Johnny takes a moment. “I watched one of your streams,” he replies, quieter than anything he’s said on the phone so far. He doesn’t sound embarrassed, necessarily, but more like he’s worried about how Taeyong might react.

But, the truth is, Taeyong exists on the internet. A symptom of his job means anyone, theoretically, can pay to see his asshole, and whatever else that entails. So when Johnny confesses to Taeyong he’s watched him work, it does make him flush a little bit, but Taeyong is not ashamed, and he’s certainly not mad.

“I mean — did you think I was gonna be angry about that, Johnny? It’s my job.” And then, because it’s late at night and Johnny is drunk and Taeyong is sleepy, and for absolutely no other reason, Taeyong asks, “did you like it?”

Johnny makes a sound like someone punched him in the chest, all the air in his lungs coming out fast. “Yeah, Taeyong,” he answers. “Of course I liked it. Can I tell you another secret?”

“Go ahead.”

“I keep thinking about you when I jerk off.”

That is, out of everything that Johnny’s said to him tonight, by far the thing that Taeyong is most used to hearing. Taeyong is under no assumptions that the dudes on the other side of the computer screen, tuning in to watch his streams, aren’t doing it with their hands around their cocks. Taeyong has been doing this long enough to no longer need to fool himself into romanticizing people’s intentions when they watch him, not like when he first started, and needed more confidence to do the things he does on camera. But there’s something, specifically, about Johnny saying it out loud. About it being _Johnny_ telling him this.

“Have you jerked off a lot lately?” Taeyong asks.

“Yeah.”

“And you thought about me every time?”

“Yeah,” Johnny gives a half-laugh. “Every time, Taeyong.”

This conversation should be weirder to be having, Taeyong realizes. But he’s not shy, not anymore, especially not when it comes to sexuality. And, quite frankly, he and Johnny are going to do more than this, be much more intimate, in, like, less than twenty-four hours. So, maybe, this is actually a good thing. It’s kind of hot — in a way that prickles under Taeyong’s skin, lighting up his nerve endings like fireflies — for Taeyong to know Johnny thinks about him like that.

So Taeyong presses. “Are you gonna jerk off after we’re done talking on the phone?”

“Probably,” Johnny replies. He seems more comfortable with this conversation now. Taeyong wonders if that has to do with his frankness, or if it’s mostly the alcohol. “Put myself to sleep.”

Taeyong laughs, and it’s a good way to disguise the little gasp that escapes as he rolls his hips down into his mattress, just a little. Taeyong is not hard, not really, but it would be unfair to say his dick is uninterested in this conversation.

“Will you think about me when you do it?”

This question takes Johnny a little bit longer to answer. “Probably,” is his eventual answer. “If that’s okay?”

The question is sincere. Taeyong can feel sweat gathering at the back of his neck. “Yeah, Johnny. You can think about me all you want.”

*

They don’t talk about the phone call the next morning.

Taeyong doesn’t really mind. They didn’t actually have phone sex, so that line is not crossed, and, quite frankly, if Johnny had gottenoff the phone with Taeyong last night and thought about him while he jerked off? Well, it wouldn’t have been the first time Johnny made himself come with images of Taeyong in his brain. So whatever. Taeyong’s got bigger fish to fry.

Namely: Taeyong has three classes in a row today, and then Johnny’s going to come over and fuck him on camera.

Only, Taeyong thinks they might not actually fuck, in the most specific use of that word, tonight. Johnny’s agreed to feature in more than one of Taeyong’s streams already, they’ve discussed it, so why jump right into the main attraction? Why not drag this out a little bit, for his viewers? Why not save the best for last? So Taeyong has other ideas for what’s going to happen tonight. He is, of course, very excited for it regardless.

Taeyong dedicates a few hours of his day to reminding his audience of what’s going on tonight, and how hyped they should be. At 11AM, he posts a photo of himself he took a few weeks earlier. It’s a mirror selfie, where Taeyong is posed demurely, with a white button down shirt, way too big for Taeyong’s frame and obviously so, draped around his shoulders and his back arched. It’s not full-frontal, because Taeyong doesn’t do that for free, but it’s obvious he’s naked. He attaches a reminder about the stream that night and posts it, imagining what a stuffy businessman in an office might look like right now, bristling with excitement as his phone lights up with a notification from Taeyong.

Taeyong gets home around 5PM, enough time for him to shower before Johnny shows up, and subsequently takes another photo of himself in his bathroom mirror after he’s done. The condensation on the mirror hides everything, again, except for the purposeful smear of a handprint through it, so Taeyong’s face can be seen, and his mess of half-dried hair.

_Stream in two hours. Remember we’ll have a special guest tonight!_

And then, all that’s left to do is wait.

*

Johnny shows up just after 6PM, and as soon as he knocks on the door, a mix of nerves and excitement sinks its teeth into Taeyong’s stomach.

God, he hopes this goes well. For his bank account, especially.

But. Like. Also in other ways.

They are both a little self-conscious at first. Which is kind of ironic, all things considered. They get along well. But, Taeyong thinks, there is a very clear difference between pseudo-phone sex at midnight when one of you is drunk, and the distinct feeling of walking into someone’s house and knowing that they are here to fuck you. It’s not even like a hook up; if that’s what this was Taeyong would have just resolved the tension by focusing his energy into doing something like kissing Johnny, or dropping to his knees and nosing at his crotch through his pants.

But this is more of a business transaction. Like the awkward first day at a new job, that’s what this is like, more than anything else.

“So.” Johnny says, the first and last word of a sentence all in one.

“So?” Taeyong raises an eyebrow.

“You said you — uh — wanted to talk beforehand? What is it — what did you want to talk about?”

Taeyong can hardly believe this is the same Johnny who boldly flirted with him at the bar. That this is the same Johnny who called him, drunk, and told Taeyong he kept thinking about him when he jerked off. It’s kind of cute, honestly.

“Oh, I just wanted to — make a couple of things clear. Between us,” Taeyong clears his throat. “Do you want some water?” He asks, and when Johnny nods, Taeyong goes into the kitchen to pour them both a glass, talking all the while. “I’ve only ever done this with Ten before, by the way, and Ten — well, he knows what to do in this kind of situation. So we usually just — get to it, y’know?” Back in his living room, Taeyong hands Johnny the glass of water he poured for him. Johnny gulps it down quickly. “But I think it’s important that you and I go through what’s going to happen beforehand, so there are no issues when we’re actually streaming.”

“Yeah,” Johnny nods. “I think that’s a good idea.”

“What I was thinking,” Taeyong begins, pressing his palms together nervously. “Was that since we agreed to do this at least a few times, maybe. Maybe we wouldn’t fuck tonight? As in, like, you wouldn’t put your dick in my ass. Not this time.”

Johnny nods again. He’s still holding the glass Taeyong handed him, only now it’s empty. “Okay. What did you have in mind instead?”

“I was thinking we could retain more viewers for more streams if we sort of, I don’t know, worked up to that?” Johnny just keeps nodding, so Taeyong keeps speaking. “So, this time I was — uh — I have this vibrator, right? And I was thinking, maybe, if it’s something you’re comfortable with — maybe you could tie me up and put it inside me and then. Y’know. Do whatever you want with the remote.”

“Oh.” Johnny’s not fully flushed red, but his cheeks are a little pink. Taeyong wonders if he’s a little embarrassed, or maybe a little turned on, or if it’s a little bit of both. “Yeah. I could do that.”

Taeyong lets out a huff. “Cool,” he replies, unsure of what else to say. “I just — I have to last like an hour, okay? And I won’t be able to get it up again fast enough so you’ll have to — y’know.”

How is it that Taeyong can say this to all his viewers, a bunch of strangers he doesn’t know, but he can’t say it to Johnny? Somebody he knows and gets along with and is attracted to?

Actually, no. It makes perfect sense he’s having a hard time saying these things. Taeyong is very good at posturing when no one is going to call him on it. In person, however? Yeah. Maybe less so.

“One more thing,” Taeyong says. Johnny raises both eyebrows, a silent indication that he’s listening. “I’m gonna come on camera. And you’re gonna be there. I’m sure you figured that would happen but — I figure it’s better to be explicit about it. You don’t have to come on camera if you don’t want to, by the way. Or at all, obviously.”

“Taeyong,” Johnny speaks his name slowly, pulling out the syllables. “I appreciate the lack of pressure to perform, but if I’m being honest?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s going to be hard for me to _not_ come while I watch you do that.”

“Oh.” Taeyong bites his bottom lip. “Alright. That’s okay. Obviously, that’s okay.”

*

It’s only ten minutes into the stream and, already, Taeyong is wondering if he has made a terrible, terrible mistake.

Not because it’s bad. No. It turns out Taeyong’s sexual chemistry with Johnny is just as good as he thought it would be. Taeyong is just worried he’s not going to make it out of this stream alive.

Johnny took his time when he tied Taeyong up. He had touched him so much, pressed his palms against the smooth surface of Taeyong’s skin, hot and insistent but not stifling. It’s a moment of balminess, just before the bite, cold and stiff, of the rope. The contrast makes Taeyong feel a little dizzy.

The way Johnny ties Taeyong up is nothing too complicated, but it’s sort of pretty and striking to look at on camera. Taeyong wrists tied, a criss-cross of rope across his chest, snaked around his thighs. It looks much more complicated than it actually is.

Taeyong is already tied when they start the stream. Taeyong tries not to think about it too hard; that Johnny’s attentiveness to Taeyong was all for him. It poured a hot warmth, sweet like honey, in Taeyong’s stomach, and simultaneously made him feel oddly taken care of, and relaxed.

But now that the stream is on, Taeyong's brain is too liquid-y for him to introduce things properly, and Johnny is talking.

“They’re all saying how hot you look,” Johnny tells Taeyong, reading through the chat. “I think so too.”

The compliment makes Taeyong squirm, just a little. Under the press of the ropes, Taeyong can feel his chest heaving up and down. The vibrator is already inside of him. Taeyong had done that himself; he could not guarantee he could have kept it together if Johnny had been the one to open him up with his fingers and slowly slide the vibrator inside of him. There would have been something especially _not business-like_ about it, and Taeyong might have forgotten all about his job and begged Johnny to fuck him then and there.

Johnny is holding the remote in his left hand, the only part of him that’s in the frame with Taeyong. He’s thumbing over the button on it; he has not explained what it is, or what it’s for, but anyone watching this stream is under no illusions about what it is, and what it must be for.

“I think they’re all jealous of me.” The shift in tone of Johnny’s voice is surprising to Taeyong, but it’s good, it’s so good. It’s exactly how someone like Johnny _should_ be talking in this kind of setting. Taeyong can’t see the tips, but he imagines they’re probably pretty good right now. And they haven’t even started. “They’re asking if I’m going to fuck you, baby,” the pet name makes Taeyong preen. “Maybe we’ll have to think about that. For next time. But how about we show them what we’re doing tonight, huh?”

The hand that Johnny isn’t holding the remote with, he circles around Taeyong’s ankle, rubbing across the jut of bone there. “Are you ready?” Johnny asks, the softest his voice has been since they turned the stream on.

Taeyong nods, swallowing.

He’s a little keyed up. When Taeyong does shows by himself, he’s entirely responsible for his own pleasure. He is the master of his own body. Even when he does a stream with Ten, it’s both of them chasing their own euphoria, playful and fun. Being at someone’s mercy so completely is new territory. And that’s exactly what’s going on right now; Taeyong isn’t coming until Johnny lets him come, and relinquishing that kind of control is not something Taeyong is used to.

But it’ll be good. Johnny promised Taeyong he would make it good.

Johnny starts slow. Taeyong can’t quite remember how many settings there on this particular vibrator he has, but he’s pretty sure Johnny starts at the first level. It makes Taeyong jerk, just a little, surprised. It hums inside of him, nothing too overwhelming, but enough to turn the half hard on that Taeyong has had for about twenty minutes into a full one.

Taeyong whines, soft but high, because he’s good at his job. Johnny’s fingers flex against Taeyong’s ankle.

“Good?” Johnny asks.

Taeyong nods. “Yeah,” he replies breathlessly. Taeyong’s hands rest against his belly and he tugs on his restraints, slightly, just to feel the tightness of them.

Johnny ramps up the vibrator in Taeyong’s ass one level at a time, then, pausing for a few moments at each level so Taeyong can understand just how different, how much more intense it is compared to the last level. It is methodical, and Johnny says nasty shit the entire time, sometimes reading from the chat and sometimes seemingly just saying whatever comes to mind.

Taeyong is rock hard, his eyes screwed shut. “Does it feel good?” Johnny asks him and when Taeyong simply nods, Johnny tuts, disappointed. “What was that?”

“Yes,” Taeyong breathes, the end of his word choking off into a moan as Johnny turns the vibrator up to the next level. This has got to be as high as it goes, right? Taeyong doesn’t know how he’ll survive the vibrator turning up any higher than this, relentless against his prostate as it wiggles inside of him, curling his toes and making his cock leak precome.

There’s a wet spot on the front of Taeyong’s briefs, Taeyong knows. He can feel the stickiness of it. He is not expecting for the hand Johnny has around his ankle to travel upwards, to cup gently around Taeyong’s cock through his underwear, and then for him to press his thumb against the wet spot, inadvertently pressing his thumb against the head of Taeyong’s cock in the process. In the same moment, the vibrator inside Taeyong becomes less insistent, depriving him of the oblivion of being completely stimulated both inside and out.

Taeyong sucks in a breath. He knows he must look wrecked; splotches of red covering his chest and face, his pretty pink nipples and red-bitten mouth. He’s not sure how much money he’s made so far, Johnny is the one who can see the chat, and the donations coming in but — Taeyong hopes it’s good money. Mostly because he could use it but, also, maybe a little, because if this goes especially well? That’s even more reason to keep asking Johnny to come back again. And again, and again, and again.

Johnny’s whole palm presses into the thickness of Taeyong’s dick, causing the air he just pulled inside of him to exit just as swiftly. The vibrator turns up again. “They wanna see your cock, baby,” Johnny tells him. “Wanna see how wet you are for me. Can we show them, baby?”

Johnny keeps calling Taeyong baby. It’s awful. They didn’t talk about if Johnny could do that. It’s awful in the best way, in a way that always sends electricity creeping up Taeyong’s spine.

“Yeah,” Taeyong answers. “Yeah. Show them.”

Johnny can’t take Taeyong’s underwear all the way off, not with the way the ropes Johnny tied him up with curve themselves around the length of Taeyong’s thighs, but that’s okay. Johnny tugs Taeyong’s briefs down just enough to expose Taeyong’s cock, hard and glistening wet.

Taeyong has no concept of time, not like this, but he thinks it’s been a good amount of time since they got started. He thinks, he _hopes_ , Johnny might let him come soon.

“You leaked all over yourself, baby,” Johnny says, pressing his palm against Taeyong’s cock again. There’s no fabric to seperate them now, so Taeyong feels the uninhibited slide of skin against skin and the full heat of Johnny’s hand. He presses his hips up into it. And then the pressure is gone.

“Hey. Look at me,” Johnny calls to Taeyong, and Taeyong does as he’s told.

And as soon as Taeyong makes eye contact with Johnny, Johnny brings his palm — wet with Taeyong’s precome — up to his mouth, and licks it clean with a few practiced swipes of his tongue. And if that wasn’t bad enough, Johnny turns the vibrator back up to the highest it will go, sending Taeyong’s head thrashing back against his pillows, and his back curving upwards.

_God_ , Taeyong wants to come _so bad_.

“Please,” he chokes out, unable to keep his desire inside of him.

“Please what, baby?”

Johnny isn’t turning the vibrator back down. He’s letting it drill, insistent and uncaring of Taeyong’s feelings, against Taeyong’s prostate. It’s maddening. Taeyong’s thighs start shaking, and more and more precome makes a mess of his cock.

“I want to come,” Taeyong confesses, biting into his lip and screwing his eyes shut when a particularly intense wave of pleasure rocks through his entire body. “Please, let me come.”

“Well, how about we ask everybody else?” And, fuck, if that isn’t so _unfair_ to Taeyong, but incredibly smart of Johnny. If Taeyong had the brain power to dissect it, he’d wonder how Johnny wasn’t already in this business. “Does everyone think he deserves to come? Did he work hard enough for it?”

Taeyong does his best to look wrecked, staring right into the camera that watches him, into the eyes of all the people behind that camera. “Please,” he repeats, as desperately as he can manage. It doesn’t take much to make his voice sound desperate, not in this position, but he lays it on thick. Because that’s his job.

“Hmm,” Johnny hums. “It looks like they’re saying you deserve it now, baby. I have been playing with you for awhile. They must feel sorry for you, for how messy you are and how badly you’re asking for it.”

Where the fuck did Ten find this guy from?

The vibrator is still buzzing inside Taeyong, still on its highest setting, still periodically bringing Taeyong so close to the edge, but then pulling him away. He’s edged himself worse before — on a particularly bad week for his budget he did a three hour stream where he did nothing but edge himself — but there’s something about being at the mercy of someone else. Something about Johnny standing over Taeyong, watching him, the silent presence of him simultaneously bringing Taeyong closer and closer to coming and but not allowing it. That brings a whole other element to this, an element that’s destroying Taeyong, breaking him apart and rebuilding him at speeds that Taeyong can’t keep up with.

Johnny’s hand moves slowly, then. It’s the one he licked clean of Taeyong’s precome, and it’s a little damp and cold from it. But it warms quickly against Taeyong’s skin, starting at the sharp jut of his hip bone, following around the curve of his thigh. It pauses, for a moment, between Taeyong’s legs, down below his cock. And then Johnny pushes a finger, dry and a little discomforting to Taeyong, inside him, pushing the vibrator harder against his prostate, and Taeyong is coming all over himself with a strangled shout, pleasure crashing around him so hard he sees stars.

*

When Taeyong comes back to himself, Johnny is dutifully untying the simple knots, freeing Taeyong slowly from the confines of the ropes digging into his skin. The same way Johnny had pressed his hands against Taeyong’s skin before he tied him up, as soon as the ropes fall away, Johnny touches Taeyong gently, again. It brings heat back into those areas, soothing a little bit of rope burn and smoothing away the redness left behind by the roughness of the ropes.

Taeyong breathes slowly. “Did you turn off the stream?” He asks Johnny, trying not to actively press up into the pressure of Johnny’s hands. He chases it, just a little, but he tries to not be too needy, or obvious.

This is just work, after all.

“Yeah,” Johnny answers. “Where’s your bathroom?”

Taeyong points to his bedroom door. “First door on the right,” he tells Johnny, and Johnny nods, standing up from where he had been kneeling on Taeyong’s bed.

Johnny pauses at Taeyong’s bedroom doorway for a second, turning back to face him. “Do you need anything? A glass of water? Towel to clean up with?”

Taeyong is briefly taken aback. He and Johnny hadn’t talked about this either — what would happen after — and Taeyong would be lying if he said he expected anything less than Johnny bailing as soon as the camera was off, leaving Taeyong to fend for himself.

It’s a nice surprise, though, that that’s not what happens.

“A glass of water would be nice,” Taeyong answers, a half-smile turning up the corner of his mouth. “And I have baby wipes in my nightstand, so don’t worry about the towel.”

“Right,” Johnny laughs, rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck. “I’ll be right back, okay?” And as soon as Taeyong nods, Johnny’s gone from sight, and Taeyong hears the sound of the bathroom door clicking shut seconds later.

Taeyong takes a moment to stretch his limbs, spreading out like a starfish on his bed and staring at his ceiling. “Wow,” he mumbles to himself, rubbing at the slight rope burn still turning his wrists red.

So, Taeyong is a little embarrassed to admit that that might have been the best sex he’s ever had in his life. Which would be sadder, if Taeyong didn’t know exactly what good sex felt like, and also didn’t know he’s had it plenty (Taeyong will give Ten the credit he deserves, quite frankly). But something about that — sex where Johnny didn’t even really _fuck_ , Taeyong, not in the traditional sense of the word — was a cut above the rest. And Taeyong, like, really can’t believe it.

He sighs. How unfortunate, Taeyong thinks, that this is how he and Johnny had to meet. That these are the circumstances they’re hooking up under. Not exactly the best conditions to foster — well, Taeyong doesn’t quite know what — under.

Whatever. Taeyong shakes his head, giving one last long, bone-cracking stretch, before reaching into his nightstand and pulling out something to clean himself up with.

It takes longer than Taeyong expects for Johnny to come back from the bathroom. Taeyong has time to fully redress himself and brush his hair before he reappears, and Taeyong is seriously considering getting his own glass of water before Johnny finally shows up again.

He’s holding the cups he and Taeyong used earlier in the evening, filled once again with water.

“What took so long?” Taeyong asks, taking a sip of water. It is cool as it slides down his throat, a welcome relief to the scratchiness Taeyong had been feeling in it.

Johnny chokes on a mouthful of his own water. Taeyong startles, raising an eyebrow as Johnny coughs a little.

“I was, uh,” Johnny pauses for a moment, seemingly trying to find words that are escaping him. “Well, I was kind of — um — I was just . . . taking care of myself, y’know?”

Oh. Johnny went into Taeyong’s bathroom to jerk off. Because he was hard. He got hard watching Taeyong. Oh. Okay. _Oh_.

“Oh,” is also what Taeyong says aloud. “You didn’t — you don’t,” Taeyong takes another sip of water, before he manages to finish. “Next time, you don’t have to leave to do that. You can just — whenever, y’know? It’s fine. I don’t mind.”

“Are you sure?” Johnny asks. He seems genuinely concerned, which is endearing.

How could Taeyong ever object to getting to see him when he comes?

“I’m sure,” Taeyong nods, resolute. “If I’m gonna come all over myself in front of you, it’d be less embarrassing if you came all over yourself too.”

They both laugh, but there is are matching blushes painting both of their faces when they do.

*

“Do you want to stay for dinner?” Taeyong is so embarrassed by how nervous he feels when he asks it, like there’s a million butterflies in his gut, and it’s only a matter of time before one comes flying out of his mouth.

He’s even more embarrassed by how disappointed he is when Johnny says, “shit, I’d love to, but I kind of promised my friend Mark I’d meet him for drinks? Sorry.”

Taeyong shakes his head, smiling. “It’s fine. I get it.” They are standing in his entrance, Johnny pulling his coat on.

“Maybe next time?” Johnny offers, and there are those stupid fucking beating wings, rumbling inside of Taeyong’s tummy.

“Sure,” Taeyong agrees. “Next time.”

There are a few moments that pass between Johnny and Taeyong then, where they stand very close together, and simply look at each other. Taeyong is not anxious to shatter what has seemingly been cast over them at this moment, and Johnny doesn’t seem very eager to do it either.

Eventually, though, Johnny’s phone chimes.

“I should go,” he says, sliding into his shoes. “Just — keep me posted? About the next time we’re doing this?”

“For sure.”

“Have a good night, Taeyong.”

“Good night, Johnny. Thanks for everything, tonight.”

*

Taeyong wishes he could wrap his head around whatever the fuck he’s gottten himself into.

**Author's Note:**

> title from the album Business Casual by Chromeo. thank you Ariana Grande for supplying all of the chapter titles for this from your album Positions.
> 
> [fic twitter](https://twitter.com/bIoodbuzzed), [personal twitter](https://twitter.com/sieepwellbeast), [cc](https://curiouscat.qa/bloodbuzzed)


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